The night train to Nah Trang was the first place in Vietnam I felt relaxed enough to open my notebook. The previous 48 hours had been a boiling stew of free shots, dodging mopeds and profuse perspiration.
Ironically, what I’d been told would be the hardest part of my time here was easy: Chilling in the 1st class, 4-birth sleeper cabins for 10 or so hours was not the coffin-like accommodation I’d been warned about. No, instead I’d find the hardest part of my experience would be this very post.
With all the amazing animals I’d seen in my first month of travel through Sri Lanka, Singapore, Borneo and Vietnam, I was not expecting the hardest one to write about would be humans.
Foundations of Singapore
Teylok Ayer street in Singapore’s Chinatown was once a coastal road. A port in to which desperate immigrants sailed, unaware of the harsh lives of back breaking work and opium addiction that awaited them. Now that shore is lined with the crisp clean edges of skyscrapers built on reclaimed land. Through it all run seams of rich greenery, giving shade to happy souls.
A tour round the Chinatown Heritage museum can still give voice to those forgotten settlers, and shape to the lives that they lived. Though the accounts and conditions are hard to hear, there are also families provided for, businesses built and doctors who helped the needy in those stories too.
It is the countless past lives of coolies and trishaw drivers who laid the foundations for the litter-free streets in modern-day Singapore. Streets like Sago street; once a place where the frail would go as to not inconvenience the living. Hearing the strength that they had makes me believe they would not begrudge me enjoying my time in the city they helped to build. I tip my glass to the skyscraper sea and give thanks to the builders.
Two Futures
From Singapore’s chequered past to it’s bright future.
I am sure that modern day Singapore still has its problems. Some say the money that once flowed through private swiss accounts now plates the city’s shimmering façade. That western faces peer out of the crystal towers while the descendants of those early settlers are still told where to live. Like Raffles original town plan dividing the growing groups of immigration, allocating people their futures.
Spending time with Bida and Poppy lets me see another viewpoint. The view down Jelan Besar makes the world seem like just another of their playthings. Micro Machines stop and go in unison in between towers made of Lego.
We found Wally, we burst balloons, we hid and chased and swam. They renamed me “baba” and just like that, with no questions asked, I was part of their family.
Their futures were not set, their lives would be what they made of them. Their minds were not corrupt, love and mischief are what they know. Since they are two facets of Singapore’s future, that future feels bright to me.
Cool Waters
Despite it being relatively comfy, when the night train finally reached Nah Trang I was ready for another sleep. I don’t even remember checking in or signing up for a boat party the next day. It wasn’t until the boat left harbour my memory kicked back in and I met my next amazing human.
Turning to shore, the clouded skyline of Nah Trang looked like a city in the grip of industrial revolution. An ever-multiplying line of beach-front giants, the clouds, their exasperated gasps as they struggle to keep up with the tourist influx.
‘Fookin Meenging Cocktails!” The floating barman announced, with a levity that had until now eluded him. I wondered if perhaps after one too many rowdy tour groups, it took being lowered in to the cool waters of the bay to soak away the stiffness in his heart.
Speaking to him later I learned he did not resent us I assumed he would. Vietnam after all has a labyrinthine history of war with French, American, and Australian enemies to name a few. All of which were represented in our group.
He had actually sided with the Americans in their struggle against the Viet Cong in the 70’s. An air traffic controller for wounded fighters, giant C130’s on one last engine, and bombers coming down with live explosives.
New War
In his own words he describes living through the civil war of north vs south as a brutal and horrible time. But today he faces a new kind of invasion.
As we head back to shore, we pass under the cable car to Vinpearl. A theme park resort cut into a previously green and beautiful hillside. “A scar on the landscape,” as my new friend describes it. He prefers the untouched view on the other side, where Russian and Chinese money has yet to flow and Vietnamese are still welcome.
But though his life today is shaped by our tourism, he reflects the peaceful water and warming sun with his crooked smile. “I do this every day,” he says. “Every day the same. No planes, no wars. The only bad thing… fookin meeging cocktails.”
